


Slipping though my fingers

by Angsty_dude



Category: Dragon Quest Builders (Video Games), Dragon Quest Builders 2
Genre: Angst, F/M, Pining, Secret Crush, Secrets, Tragedy, light nsfw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:26:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angsty_dude/pseuds/Angsty_dude
Summary: Anessa has a big problem: she's in love with one of her closest guards. As time goes on and the battle for Moonbrooke rages on, she starts to see his loyalties lie elsewhere.
Relationships: Anessa & Warwick (Dragon Quest Builders 2)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> there might be some timeline errors in this so i'm sorry, its been a while. This is a scrapped idea I decided to polish up upon a request

Snow falls on the Moonbrooke moore and cold wind chills me to my core even through my armour, my eyes resting on our two newest additions to Moonbrooke’s last stand. The builder has his arms crossed, expression thoughtful, as his hotheaded friend beside him babbles on about something I don’t care enough to listen to. I grip the sword at my side, on guard in case any monsters attempt to ambush the two. They had been found by my closest companion Warwick when they had arrived to this unending warzone and had saved my life after a brutal defeat against the monsters. I pause when I see Warwick, catching his gaze as he slips by me. He smiles and I smile back, feeling my heart pound a little harder. I give him a salute briefly before turning my eyes back to the builder and Malroth, left to linger on his olive gaze. I grumble and shake my head. Thoughts like these don’t belong on the battlefield, let alone in  _ my  _ head. I have a reputation to uphold afterall. I sigh deeply, unable to resist swooning over my closest companion. I grumble and set my hand on my hip, the cold chill distracting me some. Though I’m long used to the snow, the weather is never exactly pleasant. I shift my weight, watching the two before me work. Builder is harvesting scraps of metal, eyes darting around anxiously as he awaits any possible ambush. Malroth seems to be less on guard, kicking snow around. He looks amazed, red eyes twinkling in awe as he crouches down to scoop it up in his hands. Builder turns his head, “Aren’t you supposed to be guarding me?” He teases.

Malroth lifts his head, fingers curled around a snowball, “I am!”

“How’s playing with the snow helping?” Builder tries to scold him but can’t help but laugh.

“I can throw snowballs at them!”

He giggles, “I doubt snowballs are gonna stop the monsters, you know!”

“Maybe not, but they sure stop you!” he grins, beaming him right in the face with a snowball.

The blonde flinches when white snow explodes against his face, face turning bright red when Malorth begins cackling. I can’t help but chuckle too, the architect shaking his fist at him, “That was cold! I’m gonna get you for that!”

I smile but put my hands between them when I hear footsteps, “Your war can resume later. We have an actual one on our hands.” I point my thumb toward the hoard of monsters approaching, drawing my sword.

Malroth smirks, rolling his shoulders as he draws his weapon, “Finally, some monsters to pound!”

My blade glimmers in the light, Builder carefully scurrying to finish up what he had been doing so we’re not out here any longer. Skeletons come pouring over the castle walls, the brute beside me charging without care. I start to bark out orders at his carelessness, fumbling to keep in pace with him. His strength catches me off guard, eyes twinkling in delight as he sends his weapon smashing through skeleton skulls. His moveset is entirely strength based yet, his power far out matches mine. I can’t help but fear what it’d be like to be on his bad side. Soon enough the skeletons are either dead or fleeing, a smile crossing my lips, “You done, Builder?”

He turns, grinning as his arms are full of scrap metal, “Yep!”

“Finally, i’m tired of being out in the cold! Let’s go before my fingers fall off.” Malroth says, turning away and kicking his feet in a way to send snow spraying everywhere.

“You were  _ just  _ playing in the snow!” Builder groans, scurrying behind him.

I smile as I trail the two, their friendship warm against the cold Moonbrooke air. They laugh and grin at each other like nothing in the whole world could tear them apart, finding it to be such a strange comfort. Amidst a frozen warzone filled with fear and betrayal lurking around every corner, these two manage to smile like there wasn’t a thing wrong in the whole world. It still seems strange they came at just our hour of need but yet, their determination and joy is a beacon of light to all of us. Our group disperses when we arrive back at the safety of the castle walls, Builder disappearing to resume crafting and Malroth mumbling something about being hungry. I find myself looking for Warwick, smiling when I spot the soldier. He smiles at me, blue hair ruffled by the chilly wind, “You know, i already feel  _ so  _ much safer with those rooms built.”

I nod in agreement, “They sure showed up in the nick of time, we’d be long dead by now if they hadn’t showed up.”  
“Still, i’m not exactly sure having a builder around here is a wise idea. The children of Hargon already seem to have it out for us.”

I sigh as I look at him, his olive eyes pained. I understand his fear. Malroth and Builder may be bright but alas, their sparks of creativity could start a fire Moonbrooke can’t afford to put out. Neither of us wish for our kingdom to fall, Warwick and I both swearing an oath to protect it with our dying breath. I pat his shoulder, “All we’re trying to do is even out the playing field, Warwick. Don’t forget that.”

He smiles at me, the action making my heart flutter, “Yeah, you’re right. We can play dirty against the monsters too..” He smirks.

I nod in agreement, “Dare I say we could finally even win this war?”  
Warwick snickers at this, “That’s some wishful thinking there, ‘Ness.”

“Still, something tells me that Builder has some tricks up his sleeve.” I reply, glancing toward the blonde. 

He slips past us, nearly bolting out the castle walls, catching Warwick and I by surprise. The man beside me stiffens, both of us starting to follow him, both to see what on earth he’s doing and to follow our king’s orders to protect him. Builder stops right outside, carefully collecting an armful of snow before turning around. Warwick tilts his head, “What is he doing?”

“I have no idea.”

The architect marches past us, not even batting an eye toward our confused expressions. He silently heads over to where Malroth is sitting by the fire, the brute peacefully warming up, unaware of his friend coming over to him. Warwick and I watch in almost dumbstruck silence as Builder proceeds to drop an armful of freezing snow directly onto his friend, Malroth’s resulting yell loud enough to send birds scattering out of the trees. Builder begins giggling as Malroth says swears that I’ve never even heard of, his hair horns drooping over his face at the weight of the snow. I glance at the man beside me, unable to resist a slight giggle when Malroth’s anger melts into laughter, “They’re definitely not the most professional recruits you’ve come across.”

Warwick laughs, “Nope, not at all. They don’t seem like much but I’d keep my eye on them.” He says, tone turning dark.

I nod, understanding him perfectly. They’re playfulness is dangerous out here. The blue haired man beside me clasps his hands together, catching their attention, “Excuse me Builder but aren’t you supposed to be finishing the castle walls?”  
The blonde turns his head, sheepishly nodding. Warwick grumbles and guides him to being on task again, leaving me to stay behind as he follows them on patrol. I watch him go, hearing his armour clink lightly as he walks. His smile warms my thoughts for a few lingering moments, turning away to speak to my king.

Weeks pass, our base growing ever so quickly. Builder makes quick work of restoring our castle. Warwick and I are both proud to watch our castle grow, even if hostilities rise. As soon as soldiers begin filling our ranks again, chatter of traitors begin filling the icy moonbrooke air. I find it setting me on edge too, anxious some of our new recruits may be working for the monsters. A traitor in our ranks is not a good sign at all, carefully watching over everyone who joins. I have shared my concerns with Builder a few times, who is noticeably becoming wary too. Malroth on the other hand isn’t stirred by talk of betrayal, seeming rather annoyed with the topic. He scolds Builder on believing such talk and worries, usually giving everyone lectures that this distrust is bad for us. However, this only makes everyone but the builder turn a cold shoulder toward him, finding even myself displeased with his blatant disregard for our worry traitors crawl amongst us. At least Builder is somewhat worried, awkwardly agreeing with Malroth to keep him happy. I pace across the open halls in the castle, Builder and the residents having just finished the castle walls. The night air is chilly, my eyes wandering toward the sleeping chambers. I can hear soft talking, turning my head to listen closer. I see Malroth get up, his figure bulky in the dim light. He grumbles and I can’t help but feel paranoid, wondering if _he’s_ the supposed traitor. Part of me wouldn’t be that surprised that he’s been dealing with monsters, he does have a rather questionable aura and an extreme amount of strength, so strong I question if a human truly can posses that much power. I clench my jaw, my fingers straying for my sword. Builder’s friend or not, I will not stand for a traitor. To my relief he doesn’t turn anywhere toward the door, instead weaving through the beds to find Builder. He nudges him awake, “Hey Builds?”  
The blonde looks up, finding myself moving to see closer, just in case they are up to something, “Huh…?”

His voice is groggy, Malorth’s cracked with sleep as well, “I’m coolldd.”

Builder grumbles at him, “This again?”

“Yes, it’s freezing out here and I know for a fact you lined your bed with extra cotton!” Malroth pouts, crossing his arms.

I watch as Builder scowls at him but scoots over, lifting his blanket for him. The other immediately crawls into bed beside him, the two settling down to sleep again. I stand still for a moment, deciding that I just won’t say anything about that. Sounds like its a common occurrence. I sigh and shake my head, turning my head toward the sky. The night sky swirls with black and blue, stars glimmering brightly over head. Light white snow sprinkles down to earth, peppering my face with cold snowflakes and covering the stone ground with frozen white. I suck in an icy breath, turning my head at footsteps. My heart quickens in my throat, drawing my sword in an instant and turning to the sound, “Who goes there?”

“Anessa?’ Warwick’s usually neat blue hair is tousled, olive eyes scanning me up and down, “What are you doing out here so late?”

I relax, “Oh, it’s just you. I couldn’t sleep I guess.”

He sighs heavily, eyes fixating on something in the distance before shifting his weight, “Ah, I see. I couldn’t either.”

Silence flickers for a few moments, finding it to be rather peaceful. I can’t help but watch him from the corner of my eye, my heart pounding a little quicker to notice how close he stands next to me. His arm brushes against mine, my eyes carefully studying him without even knowing it. His face is round, soft and red tinted from the weather. Pink covers his nose and ears, pale skin flushed to a cold nipped pink from the cold. His hair waves in the wind, blow strands falling over his face. He seems troubled, finding worry eating at me for the true reason he isn’t in bed. I pause when I notice his gaze on me, head turned away but olive gaze fixed on me. I only notice when our eyes meet, the man coughing and turning his eyes away, “Maybe we should move away from being so close to the bunker? We don’t want anyone to wake up and accuse us of sneaking around.”  
I chuckle and nod, carefully heading closer to the outer castle walls. He follows in suit, outfit clinking ever so slightly. I glance to him, “Do you share my worries of a snake amongst us?”

Warwick nods grimly, “I’m afraid so.”

I clench my jaw, “I have my theories though I can prove none of them.”  
“Theories?” Warwicks sets his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

I nod, “yes, some of our new recruits seem kind of suspicious… and well, Builder’s friend...” I lean back against the wall, watching the other male do the same.

“Malroth? I share your suspicions about him though it would not be wise to bring up to Builder, he obviously cares very deeply about his companion. Though the man doesn’t seem quite… human. He has a strength that is comparable to only monsters and that temper…” Warwick clicks his tongue thoughtfully, “His blatant disregard for the possibility of a traitor is most troublesome as well. He’s only hindering us from weeding out the worm. I think I should share our suspicions with His Majesty but that can wait till another time.”

I lean back, my helmet making a soft thunk against the stone castle wall, “Our luck would be that Malroth found out about our suspicions… He could pop our heads clean off, i’m afraid.”  
Warwick bristles at this comment, eyes hazing. His brow furrows, gaze fixating on something in the distance, “Yes…”  
He trails off, feeling my words stick in my throat, almost wondering if my comment had overstepped some line I wasn’t aware of. I fall silent, searching for words desperately, the silence almost deafening. I glance at him, “Say, what’s the _real_ reason you’re up so late, Warwick? This is unlike you.”  
His eyes dart towards me for a moment, shifting his posture, “Ah, like you're much of a night owl either.” 

I frown, setting my hand on his shoulder, his eyes meeting mine, “I’m worried about you, you know.”  
His lips part, breath coming out in a shallow puff of air. His eyes fixate on mine for a long moment before he steps away, feeling my breath in my throat. Silence flickers for a moment before he speaks, gaze resting on the ground, “I just worry that… ah, this war will only end in death. I…” He pauses, feeling my fingers flex at my sides as I wait for what feels like decades for him to continue, “I don’t want to die, Anessa.”

There’s a slight tremor in his voice. It makes my chest ache, every part of me wanting to reach for him again. I force my feet to stay in place, “Warwick…”

His shoulders heave, ever so slightly, the moment of weakness making my legs tremble. He keeps his head down, skin tinted with red emotion, as tears glimmer at the edges of his vision. He thinks I don’t notice, his form trembling ever so slightly. He holds himself together better than I can, my throat burning as I search for anything to say. I feel so far from him but I keep my distance, doing my best not to provoke him, almost scared he’ll put up his walls again and bolt. We stand in silence for a few moments, the man before me sighing out a heavy breath, “I-I can’t help but fear that death lurks around every corner. That the end could come for y-you or anyone… maybe me too. I don’t want to die, i-i can’t…” He looks at me, olive gaze filled with terror, “I can’t shake the image of death. It is fresh on my mind, the body of those soldiers, the c-caskets. It's all too much, I can’t choke it down. I fear only more will die. I fear something could even happen to me! Why is the goddess so cruel as to play cat and mouse? To force us to live everyday unaware it could be last? My slumber is haunted by dreams of those around me perishing therefore I have tried to sleep less…”  
I stand straighter, never feeling smaller in my armour than now, “I would protect you with my dying breath, Warwick. Please, you cannot let yourself fester over things you cannot control, it is doing you no good but… I promise, I will never let anything happen to you nor Moonbooke… I love our home… I love-” I stop, my words catching.

Warwick turns, looking at me. I swallow hard, his gaze intense. He searches me before his hand strays toward me, the shorter male carefully shifting to stand taller. He looks hesitant, unsure, more timid than I have ever seen him, “Anessa…”

He grips me by the collar of my uniform, face tinted pink from his tears. He stands on his toes to meet my eyes, inches separating us. I open my mouth to speak, to ask him what he’s doing, to have any control, but alas, words never come. Instead, his lips do. Warwick kisses me hard, his eyes squeezing shut, leaving my skin hot and thoughts dazed. I grasp at him, struggling to understand. But yet, I fall. I fall  _ hard.  _ His kiss sends static through my body, my arms wreathing weakly around him. I can hardly catch my breath, his cheeks still damp as he presses into me like I'm the only thing that matters. I pull him closer, his fingers grasping at my waist instead. He pulls back after a moment, olive gaze hazy. I swallow hard, my skin burning, “W-Wha…?”

He smiles meekly, tipping his head to kiss me again, “I… i love you too…”

His words are hoarse and so hush I almost don’t hear him, my chest flickering with warmth. Our lips meet again, passion flickering like a match. I gasp meekly at him when his touch is rough, grabbing at me with desperation. I feel small in his arms, frail almost, letting myself follow his lead. My fingers comb through his hair, rufling the blue locks, the man in my arms mumbling something against my lips. I tilt back to hear him, a shiver shooting through me when he kisses my neck suddenly. His eyes dart away from me, studying our surroundings as we both pant weakly, the two of us still for a singular moment. Warwick than looks behind me, letting go of me just to grab my hand. I squeak, my voice just a mere crack, legs trembling when he pulls me off. Warwick’s arms find their way around me again when he pulls me into the med room, barely giving me a chance to look around. His lips find their way to my neck, his gloved fingers tugging at my armour to reveal more skin. I let him, my breath hitching and fingers curling into blue tufts of hair. I back up, my legs giving up the moment I get anywhere near the cot. Warwick wastes no time to pin me, his teeth leaving marks along my skin. His weight presses down on me, nearly crushing me, but in a pleasant way. When I kiss him again, the passion nearly makes me black out, grabbing at him to steady myself. I can’t help but moan weakly against him, shifting to leave my own trail of marks on his skin. He groans, face flushed a bright shade of red. I pull him close again, his breath hot against my face as his hips lightly push against mine, feeling my legs tremble. I lean to kiss him again, my breath shallow pants, pausing when I notice his attention has shifted away from me. His chest rises and falls with the force of his breath, olive eyes fixated on something in the distance. I sit up, gently kissing his chin, a moment of weakness flickering through me as I silently plead him for more. Warwick doesn’t respond to me, gaze solemn. I swallow, the spell breaking. The passion is gone, both of us utterly still. Hot shame flickers over me, guilt creeping down my spine. He’s a soldier and i’m his general, how could I let a simple kiss get so far. I try to keep my voice steady when I speak, “Warwick…?”

He looks at me, olive eyes filled with an emotion I can’t quite read. It looks pained and grim, the male pushing up, “I have to go.”  
I sit up, adjusting my armour as he leaves just like that, without even a trace. I grimly stare at the ground, my body still trembling. My lips burn, suddenly remembering just how cold it is out here. I sit for a few moments to let myself recover, stepping outside. There isn’t a soul around, Warwick gone just like that. I glance toward the bucker, my shame immeasurable. Is he coming back…? For once, I am not sure what to do. He has left me winded, begrudgingly deciding to try and sleep it off. I very carefully slip into the room, counting the bodies around me in instinct. Warwick’s bed is empty, easing me a little he didn’t just go to bed. I frown when I notice Malroth’s bed is empty, fearing he’s snuck off and proven himself as the snake amongst us. The thought scares me, shaking too hard to possibly fight the brute right now. His snore rumbles the entire bunker however, glancing to spot him still in Builder’s bed. By the looks of it, Builder had attempted to kick him out but it didn’t work, the other man merely draped across him snoring away. Builder’s breath comes out slightly uneven, obviously crushed. It makes me smile, if only for a moment, heading to my own bed. I curl up but sleep doesn't come and even if it did, it’s impossible to sleep through Malroth’s snoring. I scowl and cover my head with my pillow, scowling to myself. I can’t shake Warwick out of my thoughts at all, seeing him so… was something I had never expected. My feelings had always festered like a schoolgirls crush, my skin growing hot just at the thought of him. I grumble, almost mad at him for kissing me out of the blue like that. How unprofessional. I don’t know how long I sit raking through my thoughts when Warwick returns, his shadow recognizable enough after years of working by his side. He stops in the doorway, hair neat like nothing had happened. He does a headcount just as I had, finding myself sitting up. I glance at him, a silent welcome for him to join me. I don't care what had prompted him to leave, his words still ringing in my head. His I love you had been so soft, so weak, a frail declaration. He doesn’t bat an eye toward me, going to his bed wordlessly. My chest aches but I curl up, squeezing my eyes shut.


	2. Chapter 2

I’m not sure when I fell asleep, morning rising before I know it. Warwick is gone when I wake, expectantly. He always rises before everyone else, this is nothing new. I spend my morning training recruits, trying to keep my mind clear but it’s not as easy as it sounds. The soldiers are eager to learn despite how spacey I am, finding myself searching for him all day. When the sun is high in the sky I am finally relieved of my duties, finally spotting the soldier. He steps out of His Majesty’s quarters, expression grim. His lips are pressed into a tight line, his gaze fixated on something in the distance. I follow his eyes, spotting Builder and Malroth working on traps by the entrances. Malroth has his arms crossed, looking frankly annoyed at the activity. Warwick’s gaze on them is thoughtful but sharp, the same expression I’ve noticed he makes when working on battle plans. I smile at him, “Hey, Warwick!”  
He glances toward me but only for a moment, expression utterly unreadable. He says nothing, looking right through me. He doesn’t even utter a “pardon me” when he squeezes past me, bumping into me with no regard. I feel my heart sink in my chest, the man having looked at me like I was just a stranger. I turn my head to watch him go, heading to where Builder is. He crosses his arms at the blonde, who frowns at him, “Builder? May I talk to you in private?”  
He gets up, having been placing spike traps along the castle walls to deter monsters, nodding at him. Malroth follows them when they walk away, Warwick scowling at this ever so slightly. I sigh and decide I have better things to do, turning away. I can feel his eyes on me however, almost unable to shake the feeling he’s talking about me. I awkwardly head to the kitchen, getting something to eat. I can’t help but wonder what happened between then and now, squirming in place to think I had ruined what we had entirely. Our friendship splintered by a stupid kiss. When I step outside again, I no longer feel their eyes on me, heading off to go do my patrols. 

Days pass and nothing about Moonbrooke feels the same. The tension in the air is so dense you can nearly see it. Warwick says very little to me, treating me like i’m nothing more than an acquaintance to him. It stings more than I care to admit, just wanting my best friend back. He doesn’t even seem like the same man, always looking frazzled and irritated. I’ve noticed he’s not the only one acting off, tensions flaring up between everyone. Builder barely speaks to me, his gaze holding an emotion I can’t name. Malroth has become rather curt and rude to everyone as of late, most the castle starting to dislike him. His attitude even flares at Builder, who ignores his snippy remarks. I notice his temper flares the most when Builder is working on machinery, a flicker of jealousy always in his red eyes. Their bickering is enough of a cue that something has changed, having always found myself looking to them for comfort when things heat up. I’d give anything to talk to Warwick about it but alas, he still doesn’t talk to me. His sentences toward me are short and straightforward, finding myself missing my friend dearly. Everyone seems to have an attitude towards me as of late, especially Builder. Time goes on, Builder fetching the mirror of Ra and using it to weed out traitors. Though it works, I can’t shake the feeling a rat still lingers. Malroth and Builder’s relationship has become noticeably more tense since Builder used the mirror of Ra on him, the two scrabbling here and there. It brings me an underlying sense of defeat to see them fight like that. My gut warns me something terrible will happen soon, eyeing people I have trusted for years suspiciously. The scare forces have begun to press down on us, Hargon’s armies realizing the strength that grows in our numbers. I want to be proud but yet, the underlying presence of doom keeps my joy at bay. I stand at guard, the night air chilly even with my armor. It nips at my flesh, pink flushing at my cheeks. I hate night shifts. It leaves me to think when I don’t wish too. I pace, quietly, on high alert for the slightest noise. I freeze at footsteps, lifting my head to see Warwick. He bolts out from around a corner, nearly skidding straight into a wall. He catches himself however, turning and freezing at the spot of me, “Anessa!”  
I frown at him, “What are you doing?”  
He stares at me for a minute, his expression strange. He looks almost out of place, paranoid and wary, breath coming out in shallow pants, “Anessa…”  
Worry prickles through my gut, gently reaching for him, “Are you alright?”  
Warwick looks at me, olive gaze heavy, eyes filling with tears the moment our eyes meet, “I’m so sorry.”  
I stop, taken aback. He breaks down, hugging me tightly and burying his face into my shoulder, “i’m so sorry, Anessa.”  
I gently let myself hug him back, “Is something going on? Warwick, please explain yourself.”  
He just squeezes me tighter, crying into my shoulder and trembling weakly. He just melts against me, my heart aching terribly, “you’re still my best friend, you know…” his voice cracks, “i just… i-” he sighs, brokenly, “how’s your shift going?”  
I rub his back, “Don’t try to turn this on me, just tell me what’s wrong…” I whine.  
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Warwick says after a moment, “Just… Stay with me, please.”  
I sigh, “If you insist.”  
Warwick falls quiet, “So, how is your shift going anyway?”  
“It's been fine, quiet till you showed up.” I mumble in response, gently rubbing his back.  
“Ah, it has been a little quiet as of late. Though, Builder will be very busy making a cell tomorrow so we can journey to Rendarak for the rest of the pieces for the Kazapple cannon.”  
“Wait? Does that mean you convinced His majesty? Builder would never agree to lock Malroth up. With our luck he’d pack up and leave just at the idea.” I look at him worriedly.  
Warwick snickers, “Oh please, he has not the slightest that it's for his companion. He thinks some other poor sap I accused of being the traitor just to keep him happy. It’s all working flawlessly.”  
“Who’s the sap?”  
His gaze doesn’t meet my eyes, glancing toward the bunker, “Ah, just one of the soldiers from the first time he rang that bell. He’s completely convinced.”   
I cross my arms, leaning back, “That’s good. He’ll be arrested upon completion won’t he? At least we could rest easy if the traitor is finally locked away.”  
Warwick politely puts a little space between us, “Say, Anessa?”  
I tip my head to him, feeling much at ease at the thought of the bloodthirsty Malroth being put behind bars, even if the methods aren’t exactly… truthful. Warwick thinks before he speaks, choosing his words carefully, as if unsure how to continue. I furrow my eyebrows at him, “Something bothering you…?”  
“Would…” He turns toward me, olive gaze meeting mine, “Would you ever consider working with the monsters?”  
His question sounds almost like an insult, feeling a snarl pull at my lips, “Never. I would rather die than ally with them. Why on earth would you ask me that?”  
Warwick studies me deeply, like he’s searching for a lie, feeling my blood boil, “Well, if Malroth isn't the moonbrooke traitor, i want to know who my allies are.”  
I turn towards him fully, bristling, “Are you accusing me of working against my kingdom, Warwick?”  
He shrugs, finally breaking my gaze, “You have been taking alot of night shifts, Anessa, just saying.”  
I feel my face scrunch in disgust, stepping away from him, “I cannot believe you would dare accuse me of something so low as to betray my home! My kingdom! I would rather watch the end of the world than work for them, Warwick, you of all people should know this! Everything i’ve ever done was for Moonbrooke!’  
Warwick snarls, “And yet, you nearly died for what? To die another day for a kingdom that gives you nothing? You have plenty of reason to work for the monsters.”  
My hand strays to my sword, gritting my teeth, “Accuse me of such atrocities again, Warwick, I dare it. Your accusations have no place here.”  
He grunts, blue hair falling over his face, warily eyeing my blade, “Anessa, i’m just saying this as your friend… I wouldn’t tell.”  
This only enrages me more, his eyes flickering with an emotion I can hardly place, a certain cunning to him that makes my throat burn. He really thinks I'm working for the monsters. I stamp my foot, glaring him down, “No. I will not tolerate such disrespect. If I were working for them, I'd expect you to report me immediately so I will be punished for my crimes. Traitors do not deserve mercy. And no, Warwick, you are not my friend. You made the decision we weren’t friends anymore a long time ago.” I spit, my words laced with venom.  
Warwick flinches at this, my comment cutting us both deeply, “When did I ever do that?’ he grunts, his reply more of an attack than a question.  
I stand my ground, refusing to let him break me, “You kissed me that night and pretended you didn’t even know me. You broke the line of friendship and left me.” I hiss.  
Warwick’s eyes search mine, olive gaze hardening. He looks at me as emptily as he had been during the day, “Fine.”  
“Fine?”  
He turns with a grunt, “I have better things to do than waste my breath on you.”  
His comment stings but I refuse to continue our banter, watching him retreat and head out through the back of the castle, scowling to watch him sneak off to cool down. I turn my gaze away, shaking my head to clear my thoughts. No, Malroth is the traitor. This nightmare is almost over. We’ll head to Rendarak and finish the kazapple cannons and finally win this godforsaken war and maybe Warwick will finally make amends… I’m sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m sorry, Builder, the first occupant of your newly built cell has been decided.”

I watch as guards grip Malroth’s arms, the brute kicking and flailing, letting out soft grunts and hisses as he’s forced into the cell, “Hey! How could you do this to me?!”

Warwick and Builder follow them, the solider looking pleased with himself while the architect looks a strange mix of angry, confused, and upset, worriedly jogging to keep up with them as they disappear into the basement. I sigh heavily, sad to have to tear the two apart but alas; Warwick and I will do whatever it takes to keep Moonbrooke safe. I watch them head into the basement, not really wanting to join in on the inevitable argument from the blonde. I start to turn away, feeling my heart ache at the sound of their bickering. The hurt and anger in Malroth’s voice cuts sharp, feeling a trickle of guilt at Builder’s feeble attempt to explain. I hesitate before I decide to head down there, deciding to play like I had no idea what was going on. I glance at the two, Malroth huffing audibly at my presence. I glance to the brute, who’s turned away now, scowling to himself and tuning us out. I shift away from the prisoner, Warwick not meeting my eyes, “What are you two doing down here?”

I squeak when the ground rumbles, the three of us looking up warily. I swallow when a familiar voice booms, echoing across the Moonbrooke moor, “Grah hah hah! Humans been busy! Me not gone long and they build beautiful new castle for me to smash!”

“Lord Atlas… The humans are not to be underestimated. We would do well to destroy them now, before they grow any stronger!”  
Atlas let out a mighty roar that rumbles the castle, chuckling huskily, “Grah hah hah! You funny, Wrecktor! They not so tough! They all go squish soon- until then, we have some fun! Go, Minions! Make humans suffer for me! Make humans squirm for me! Make them scream for me!”

The three of us head up stairs, finding myself glancing back to our prisoner. Malroth has his back to us, arms crossed and eyes forward, a soft grumble of complaint escaping him that he wants to win this war as much as anyone else. I can’t help but feel a strange trickle of guilt, that maybe he really isn't bad… But his pointed ears and red eyes convince me otherwise. Besides, Warwick is a genius strategist, If putting our strongest fighter behind bars in the crunch of endgame is something he feels so strongly about to lie to Builder about, who am I to question it. Malroth is no good, his majesty agreed. I adjust my helmet and join the others upstairs, convinced of the conviction, my eyes falling on Warwick. He stands before the castle walls, deep in thought, elaborating the perfect strategy. Builder looks strange, bitter, upset of the arrest of his best friend. He grumbles but slinks to Warwick, approaching the blue haired man and carefully asking about our plans. Warwick turns to him, “That… That was Atlas. The major general of the monsters and ruler of the entire island. It seems he has no interest in fighting us right now-goddess be praised- but his underlings are coming! We must drive them back! Are you ready, Builder?”

The blonde grimly nods, eyes glancing to where Malroth had always stood, the man having usually been behind him like a guard dog, the architect gritting his teeth and shifting his gaze to the battle field instead, fingers flexing impatiently. Just as figured, Malroth’s arrest doesn’t set well with him. 

Warwick nods in response, “Very well. If we are to survive, we must win this fight. There must be some way to defeat Atlas, we have only to find it!”

I turn my gaze away when he hands the blonde some bomb balls, rolling my shoulders carefully, preparing for battle. The fight roars on, finding myself worried for the Builder. His intellect has always surpassed all of us, he may be a genius, but he has no skill for battle. I had always thought this. He thinks too much to make a proper solider, he’s clumsy on his feet, he lacks the swiftness of a solider, and he lacks the malice war needs from him. Malroth was Builder’s malice. The brute made up for everything Builder lacked,, the two a respectable combo, genius paired with unbeatable strength. For where the builder stumbled, Malroth had been there to shove him to his feet and keep him protected. When Builder strayed too far from the field, the brute had been covering him just in case. The blonde stands alone now, sword held in careful fingers, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, deep in thought. I can’t help but wonder if he can handle himself in a warscape as heavy as this, standing alone for the first time. I shift, his blue eyes making me feel guilter. I avoid his gaze, deciding to help protect him, after all, its the least I could do. Monsters flood through the traps Builder had set, the battle proving to be difficult even with the aid. I stay close to him and when the hoards finally diminish, we all cheer. Except for him. Builder just heads inside, looking rather uninterested with the victory. He glances at me when I speak, “Well fought, Builder! The invaders have been soundly repelled.”

He furrows his brow at me, saying nothing in response to my praise. He turns to Jerimiah when the man speaks, “But their leader still lives! So long as that monster draws breath, Moonbrooke will never know true peace!”

Esther speaks up next, “And not only because he means us malice. Atlas is the one who stole the mark of Moonbrooke, the symbol of peace that has been passed down the royal family for generations!”

Gerome grumbles, “But the beast is powerful beyond reckoning! I cannot even imagine how we might have hope to stand against him - much less defeat him…”

The bard proceeds to sing a happy tune, which no one acknowledges. His majesty turns to us, voice brimming with confidence, “Silence, you fools! You would abandon hope, even after Builder has brought us this far? I, for one, shall never surrender!” 

Zara frowns, “your majesty! You sound so kingly all of the sudden! Are you sure you are not overtaken by a monster?”

His majesty chuckles, “Jest not, my dear! I am, and always will be, the rightful ruler of Moonbrooke! Do you forget so easily that the blood of the legendary Erdrick flows through my royal veins? Kingliness is the worst of my virtues!”

Others begin to peel away, uninterested in what his majesty has to say to Builder. I watch Warwick start to peel away too, his olive eyes never once meeting mine. I roll my shoulders, making sure I remain limber, afterall, we never know when the next attack could come. I turn away, glancing over my shoulder to where his majesty speaks in a low tone to Builder, telling him of the kazapple cannons and where to go to finish them. I watch as Builder turns on his heels, hurrying to make a blueprint for His majesty’s suggestions. I cannot help but be saddened by the expression on his face, the usual cheery blonde looking unhappy to do the one thing he loved most. His Majesty, Gerome, Warwick and I, all stand back as he works, my heart aching at the annoyance in his expression. Builder isn’t taking Malroth’s loss well in the least, turning to glance at the four of us, brows furrowed grimly. The king of Moonbrooke praises him but it hardly affects him in the slightest, the blonde just watching him as he speaks. I can’t help but stand in awe at the thought of the kazapple cannons, having partially always believed they were mere myth. They were real and we would surely use them to win against Atlas, unable to help feeling a little brave. Victory was closer than we thought. The king fills Builder’s head with commandments, our group watching quietly as he fills the architect’s head with more things to do. When Builder finally does speak, his words make everyone pause, “When will Malroth be freed?”

The king wastes no time in answering, apologizing profusely for the imprisonment of the architects closest friend, “Unfortunately, your friend strikes more fear into the hearts of our own soldiers than our enemies. Do not fret, Builder, your friend will not be harmed! He will be freed in time.”

Warwick responds almost immediately, “Come, Builder, His Majesty has spoken. Let us focus our efforts on the kazzaple cannon so that atlas may be slain and this ugly business has ended!”   
  
  



End file.
